by Diane Adams
Rose walked slowly down the long driveway that wound through the giant tulip trees in front of the old Templeton place. Nearly every tree had at least one branch that Rose could reach, and she loved to climb them, nearly to the top, and watch the clouds drift by. The grandparents had given her permission, so long as she didn't hurt herself, or the trees.
Though Rose missed her mother and prayed every day that she would get well, she didn't really mind living with Meemaw and Pops. They didn't own the old Templeton place - they were just caretakers, but that didn't matter to Rose. She had lived in small apartments and tiny trailers the first ten years of her life, so she felt blessed every time she 'came home' to the Templeton mansion. It was four stories tall, counting the basement, with hallways going every which way, leading to rooms and closets and more hallways. The Templetons had once been the wealthiest family in the county, but had lost their fortune and moved away, leaving the estate to fall into ruin. The roof needed new shingles, the shutters were loose, the sidewalks were cracked and there were squishy soft spots on the front porch steps.
"Ta dum!" a young voice chortled. Rose's cousin, Alexandria, suddenly leaped from behind a row of bushes, her arms spread nearly as wide as the grin on her face. "Lucky you!" she announced. "I've come to spend the long weekend."
"How come? I mean, no one told me," Rose said, noticing the way Alex was trying not to look at her hair. Alexandria was her favorite cousin, since they were almost the same age and Alex was generally good natured. They looked very much alike, with dark hair and solemn brown eyes and muscular bodies that rarely got tired.
"No one knew," Alex explained. "My parents were suddenly called away."
"Who called them?"
Alex lifted her shoulders. "My dad's business, I guess. We actually have school tomorrow and I'm going to miss an important test, but my mom wrote a note that I was needed by someone in the family. That's the way it is when you go to a private school - they're more understanding about situations like this."
Rose didn't like being described as a 'situation.' She suspected Meemaw had called Alexandria's mother and the two had declared Rose's failed perm a family emergency. All the same, she was glad for Alex's company.
The two girls trudged along side-by-side until Rose stopped and shrugged off her back pack, allowing it to dangle from one hand. "Go ahead and say it," she dared her cousin.
"Your hair looks awful," Alex said obediently. "What happened?"
Rose made a face. "Meemaw went to church to do the newsletter and the secretary told her how Nicole Macavity got her hair permed and it turned out sooo cute, that all the other girls decided to get their hair permed too. So Meemaw decided I ought to have a perm, but when she found out how much they cost ..."
"Like, seventy dollars," Alex said, fluffing her own permed curls.
"Yeah. So she bought a home perm to surprise me."
Alex scrutinized Rose with a serious expression. "Maybe your hair just doesn't take a perm well. I've heard of that."
Rose shook her head. "When Meemaw was half done squirting on the stinky gunk, she got a phone call. Then, when she came back, she forgot which side she did and accidentally did the same side twice. If she had asked, I could have told her, but how was I supposed to know she was only supposed to do each side once? Then the double dose started burning my head and I had to rinse it out quick. She was worried my hair was gonna fall out."
"Lucky that didn't happen," Alex said.
Rose nodded in agreement. "The truly sad part of the story is - I didn't want a perm! Now Nicole Macavity thinks I was trying to copy her. As if anyone with intelligence would want to be anything like Nicole Macavity."
Alex made a motion with her hand and Rose turned in a circle, giving her the view from all angles.
"You need to get a tight perm on the right side of your head, so they match," Alex suggested.
"It still costs seventy dollars, even if you just want a half of a perm. Meemaw called and checked."
"Worse things could happen," Alex said, sounding very much like an adult.
"And they probably will," Rose sighed. "Though they can't get much worse than my mom being in the hospital practically forever. Not to mention that I've never even met my own dad."
"Steven was like your dad," Alex said cautiously.
"True, but he broke off their engagement and ran away," Rose reminded her. "I probably scared him away. Meemaw says I should have more faith, but ... How come everything goes so good for you all the time? You don't have more faith than I do and even if you did, it's easier for you to think everything will turn out good because it always does turn out good for you."
"Not always," Alex objected. "Remember that time when my tooth got chipped?"
"So what? It was a baby tooth. It fell out a couple of months later."
Alex lifted her hands and raised her shoulders. "I can't help it if I'm lucky. It's not my fault."
"My mom used to say we make our own luck," Rose remembered. "So that sort of makes it sound like it is your fault which means it's my fault that everything goes wrong for me."
"Meemaw should've let you stay home from school until you could get it fixed," Alex changed the subject.
"I figured it was better to go and get it over with," Rose said glumly. "You think it would help if I washed it a hundred times?"
"I doubt it. It would probably just make it frizzy. Did everyone make fun of you?"
"What do you think?" Rose forced a little laugh, as though it didn't matter.
"You should've told them what happened, so they could sympathize. You only make things worse with your attitude." Alex crossed her arms and shook her head. "I have a lot of friends, Rose. A lot of friends. And it's not just because my parents are rich," she added sternly. "Kids don't like to hang out with someone who is crabby. You have to be upbeat and happy if you want to be popular."
"Not everyone wants to be popular," Rose said.
Alex sniffed. "People only say that if they're not."
"No, it's true," Rose insisted. "I think it would be a nuisance to have a lot of people calling me every night to discuss whatever happened that day. 'Oh, did you see what Susie Straight A's was wearing?'" she mimicked the tone of someone judging her classmates with a critical air. "'Did you hear what Bobby Blue Ribbon said when Teacher asked him to add two plus two?'"
"We don't do that," Alex said crossly.
Rose tossed her backpack over her other shoulder and resumed a slow walk towards the house. "Here's what I don't understand. Nicole Macavity is the most popular girl in the fifth grade. Everybody wants to be her friend."
"Everybody except you," Alex reminded her.
"So why does she make fun of me? It's not like I'm the competition. How come the popular people go around making fun of the unpopular people? I mean, they're already popular, so what good does it do them?"
Alex didn't answer. She crossed her arms and kicked a rock, then she sighed and looked at Rose. "So, what do you want to do this weekend?"
Rose climbed the stairs to the porch and settled on the wooden swing that hung from the ceiling on rusted chains. She pushed with her foot until the swing swayed gently from side to side, creaking noisily. "I think I want to try out my paint set."
"You mean you haven't tried it yet?" Alex said with surprise. "I figured you would've used up all the paper by now. My mom and I went to about thirty stores trying to find it that big."
"Sixteen by twenty-four," Rose said with satisfaction. "Thanks. It's perfect." She knew Alex and her mom had also been the ones to find the paint set that included thirty-two colors and a packet of assorted brushes. The birthday tag said it was from Meemaw, but their grandma wasn't much of a shopper.
"Pops spent hours making you that easel," Alex said, with a touch of disapproval. "I'll bet his feelings are hurt that you haven't tried it."
"A painting is only as good as its subject," Rose said absently. "And since I'm not allowed to go into the garden, what am I supposed to paint?"
The garden was a large tract behind the house, landscaped with trees and bushes and flowers, cobblestone paths and park benches, bird houses and bird baths, fountains and miniature waterfalls. Pops, their grandfather, spent practically every minute of every day tending the garden, with occasional help from Meemaw. Though Pops and Meemaw spoiled all of their grandchildren in every other way, none of them were allowed to put one foot inside the garden. Naturally, they were all obsessed with curiosity about the area that was hidden behind the tall privacy fence.
"I asked my parents why we're not allowed to go in the garden," Alex said. "They say it's because they don't want us to trample the exotic flowers."
"If all of their grandkids were here visiting and we wanted to play in the garden, that would make sense," Rose said. "But not when there's just the two of us." Or one of us, she added silently. "So long as Pops went with us, he could keep saying, 'Be careful where you put your feet! Watch out for that exotic plant!'"
"True," Alex agreed.
No use debating the issue any further, Rose lectured herself. Meemaw and Pops would not bend one inch when it came to allowing the grand-girls into the garden.
"So maybe I'll paint a picture of you," Rose teased her cousin. "Meanwhile, we'd better go in or they'll think I missed the bus."
"Anyway, Meemaw's worried that you might've had a really bad day, on account of your hair," Alex remembered.
"No worse than usual," Rose said, trying to sound lighthearted.
(( 4 ))
